


Walk of Shame

by helens78



Series: Trip Stumble Fall [6]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Ex Sex, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-18
Updated: 2010-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/133900">Paying Down Debts</a>, it's a work day.  Diefenbaker and Vecchio have a few things to say about how Fraser and Ray spent the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk of Shame

_"You walk out that door and it's over," Ray says. "You walk out and we are done, we are_ finished _. It's over, done,_ through _."_

 _"I can't stay. I--we can't keep doing this to each other," Fraser says, reaching out to grab Ray's arms. "Christ, look at me. Look what I do to you, what we do to each other, look what I'm_ doing _\--"_

 _"Only thing you're doing is making the biggest fucking mistake of your life," Ray says, chin tilted up, and God, God, how long has Fraser been waiting for Ray to know that, to believe that, to recognize that he could be the best part of someone's life, that he_ deserved _to be?_

 _But he can't stay, he_ can't _, and so he puts all the love he's got for Ray into this last kiss, and the kiss turns into another, and another, and Ray drags him down on the couch, holding him so hard he can barely breathe. And it doesn't matter--it doesn't matter, none of it matters, loving Ray for the last time doesn't matter._

 _When it's over, Ray turns his face to the side and sets his jaw, and he refuses to look up as Fraser gets dressed again and walks out the door._

* * *

Fraser comes awake with a gasp and a start, and he shoves away from Ray, legs tangling in the covers. Ray grunts and turns around, too, blinking his eyes open, struggling to sit up or untangle himself or do anything at all. In the end, he slumps back into the bed, and he presses his palms to his face, groaning.

"No hangover," Ray mumbles. "Didn't drink last night."

"No," Fraser whispers. "No, you didn't."

"Hangover would suck less," Ray mutters, and Fraser pulls hard at the covers, willing to rip the damned things if it'll get his legs free. It turns out not to be necessary. He pushes out of bed and starts gathering up his clothes; he doesn't ask Ray if he can use his shower.

But Ray opens his eyes and squints at him, and he groans again and shakes his head. "You need me to take you back to the Consulate before you head to the 27th?"

"I'm fine," Fraser says sharply. "I don't need anything else from you."

Ray looks away--Fraser can see it out of the corner of his eye--and shrugs. "Whatever," he mumbles, and he climbs out of bed and starts getting dressed, too.

* * *

Ray takes Fraser back to the Consulate; he won't take no for an answer. He leaves the car running as Fraser goes inside, so Fraser doesn't bother to shower; he gets into the brown uniform this time, because it's easier, because it means not having to lace himself into the High Browns. Or, perhaps, because he can't bear the thought of looking at his reflection in red serge today. Diefenbaker gives him an accusatory look and shakes his head, but he follows Fraser down the stairs anyway.

Fortunately, no one else is here yet, and so Fraser can come back out to the car, hair mussed, red-eyed, and unshaven, without having to explain himself to anyone. When he opens the door, Diefenbaker stares at Ray for a few seconds and then barks. Ray's eyes go wide.

"Hey, _what_ \--what, we didn't--it's not like--"

Diefenbaker gives a disgusted little grunt, not that Fraser can blame him; if even Fraser can smell what they spent last night doing, it's hardly worth trying to convince Diefenbaker to ignore the evidence being presented to his own far more nuanced olfactory sense. He does get in the car, though, and after a moment's hesitation, leans forward from the back seat and licks Ray's ear.

"Dief, c'mon," Ray says, but when he reaches back, he doesn't try to bat Diefenbaker away. He scratches through the fur behind Diefenbaker's ears and closes his eyes for a moment. Dief whines softly and then looks at Fraser and _snarls_. Fraser concentrates on getting his seat belt fastened, and then looks carefully at his fingernails, trying not to think about what Diefenbaker just called him. It might not have been the kindest thing to say, but Fraser can't really argue with it.

"Don't be like that," Ray murmurs, finally pushing Diefenbaker away. He pulls out into the road and starts the trip to the 27th, a drive he and Fraser perfected through months of trial and error, figuring out all the best shortcuts and ways to avoid traffic. "You know, I called him this time."

Diefenbaker whuffles softly and looks out the back window, pointedly ignoring both of them. Fraser sighs and rubs at his eyebrow. "I suppose one has truly hit the bottom of the barrel when one's wolf is making remarks about one's love life," Fraser mutters.

"Love, huh? That's what you're calling it?"

Fraser looks up, but Ray's got his arm straight out, creating as much of a boundary between them as he can, and he's chewing on a toothpick--Fraser doesn't want to think about where he picked it up, since he didn't have it when they got out to the car. He's not looking at Fraser, and his expression is tense and guarded.

"I don't suppose it matters," Fraser murmurs.

"No, I don't suppose it does," Ray fires back. "Quit fuckin' looking at me and--I don't know, watch the goddamned road for potholes or flaming buses or meteors or something."

Fraser nods and looks straight ahead, taking his eyes--if not his attention--off Ray. He deserves this--even Diefenbaker thinks so--and if the rest of the drive to work has to be awkward and silent, then that's what has to happen.

Even his father's advice might be welcome at this point; he can just imagine his father saying _Oh, for God's sake, Benton, man up and apologize._ But then again, when has he ever done what his father told him to do? And it's a moot point besides; his father's ghost has gone off to live--or, well, un-live--happily ever after with his mother's.

His father's _dead_ and his relationships are working out better than Fraser's. It's enough to make Fraser want to go back to the damned Yukon.

At the station, Ray takes a parking space in the back lot, and he and Fraser walk in through the back door together, Dief hanging back a ways as if he doesn't really feel like being seen with either of them. Fraser heads for Vecchio's desk, and Ray sucks in a breath and goes over to his own, and Fraser spares a quick look to see if Hartman's there today.

He's not.

Well, at least that's something.

He sits down across from Vecchio's desk, and Vecchio looks at him, then turns around and looks at Ray. He groans and drops his head down on his desk, banging his forehead lightly against a stack of paperwork, and Fraser sits back in his chair and rubs at his eyebrow.

"You know," Vecchio says, coming back up, "I don't think I ever saw a synchronized walk of shame where _both_ people were coming in like they're the guilty ones."

Diefenbaker walks up to Vecchio and puts his paws on Vecchio's desk, looking around hopefully for donuts or somesuch. Vecchio tears off a chunk of his cruller and hands it over; Dief sits down with his prize and happily eats it. "There we go," Vecchio murmurs. "At least somebody oughta be having a good morning."

"I've had worse," Fraser admits. "There was a time in the Northwest Territories where I was awakened by a pair of mating beavers--"

"Okay, you know what, funny Mountie stories aren't gonna cut it with me today," Vecchio says. "You owe Hartman an apology, and if he ever shows his face around here again, I'm gonna watch you give it to him."

"I don't owe him anything," Fraser whispers fiercely.

"What, he owed you, right?" Fraser stays silent; Vecchio shakes his head. "Well, that ship has sailed, pal, so chances are we're _not_ going to see him again. I hear he took a week's vacation and he's pushing hard to get a transfer back to the 14th."

 _Good_ , Fraser thinks, looking over at Ray Kowalski. He's on the phone, talking heatedly with someone--but from the look of it, it's not Hartman, thank God. Something about--bacon, a warehouse shipment... Fraser's halfway to his feet before Vecchio grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down.

"Ha, _no_ \--he'll be getting a new partner, and it's not gonna be you. So sit your ass down, because if you want to keep coming back here every day, you _have_ a job and you _have_ a partner and we've got a shitload of work to do, _capisce_?"

Fraser's jaw works for a few seconds, but he finally exhales and says, " _Capisco_ ," and Vecchio actually smiles for the barest fraction of a second before sitting back and shoving a file folder at him. Work. It's better to have work; maybe it'll take his mind off everything else.

Across the room, Ray stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, and he stops briefly to exchange a few words with the civilian aide--Penny, these days--before he goes. Penny nods at him, and then he's gone, and he doesn't spare a backward glance for Fraser as he leaves.

 _-end-_


End file.
